Sunday, 25 November 2012

In the days that follow, I work out what has happened. It
looks as though the hospital didn’t properly log our change of address and
appointment letters have gone out to our old place.

I relay this to the social worker when she next calls.

She sounds sceptical. “So, that’s what your saying has
happened?”

I cut her off

“That’s what I think has
happened. I can find out for sure when I go in for my scan.”

The scan they have finally booked me in for.

The one that should have happened months ago.

I agree to pop
down to the social services office afterwards.

I research child protection procedure, to better understand
what will happen next. I talk to people about it, especially other mothers and
especially other mothers who have been investigated themselves.

There is a predictable class divide. Middle class people
tell me there’s nothing to worry about, it’s just a mistake and of course it can all be smoothed out.
Working class mums tell me to be fearful, to put everything in writing and to
never ever admit to any vulnerability. I learn a lot.

The not showing vulnerability thing: That’s because Susan
MacDonald is there to help the baby: not me. There might come a time when she
needs to consider whether he might be better off without me. The game is not
simply to cope: It is to be seen to
be coping.

If this feels pressurising to me (and it does) I can only imagine how
tough it must be to pull off in an actual crisis. I start to see how naïve I was,
when I almost suggested approaching them voluntarily, as a source of help.

I also learn that social services in Glasgow
are a little bit different. They are larger and better resourced than other
places and therefore (in practice if not in theory) have a lower threshold for
doing getting involved, which explains some of the wariness I've encountered
towards them.

In areas where everyone is struggling to get by, it seems particularly
strange that such an individualised service is funded so generously.

It’s the irony of a state which won’t insulate housing, limit
fuel prices, raise state benefits, provide jobs or tackle a heroin trade so widespread
and influential that it takes in every ice cream van, arty night venue and town
councillor in the city. But will nevertheless send a worker around to note that
this household or that has no food in the cupboard, no heating and no adults
that aren't out of their minds with grinding worry and the bleakness of life.

There are unintended consequences: Someone tells something
that happened at her kid’s school. A Mum wanted to make a complaint about how
the school had handled some bullying. The teaching assistant made some comments
implying that the child was poorly dressed and hungry. The mum understood what
was being threatened. She left without making the complaint.